I work in a very long building. It is about a third of a mile from where I sit to the far end of the building. That really comes in handy when the weather is less than desirable. It means I can take a short (or long) exercise walk and never leave the comfort of the building. Today is one of those days.
I woke this morning to the sound of pouring rain. I drove in through the waves of heavy rain. At lunch, I walked across the parking lot to the deli listening to the sound of the giant rain drops popping against my jacket. It’s pretty impressive. It’s also pretty wet. We’re moving through successive waves of storm fronts here, but Pacific storms have a great wild beauty to them that is hard to describe. The feel of them, the texture of them, the taste of them, is different from storms in other parts of the country.
So today, with the scent of rain, I walk to the far end of the building and enjoy both the storm – and being safe and dry in the storm. That dichotomy fascinates me. The experience of the storm is radically different when you cannot come in from the storm. I recall quite vividly more than a few times in my life when I couldn’t come in from a storm, both physically and metaphorically. It is the shelter from the storm that enables us to enjoy the storm.
Whether that storm is physical or metaphorical.